


Nothing But Breathing

by bbcsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, kiss fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcsherlockian/pseuds/bbcsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The oscillation of the air between your mouth and mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But Breathing

_There's a wind that blows in from the north,_   
_And it says that loving takes its course._   
_Come here. Come here._

 

Come across from where you're sitting, one finger brushing aimlessly at your mouth. You're staring at my hands, did you know? If you come across the room to me I'll put down the violin so we can play our own music, so you can investigate every contour of my hands for as long as you want.

Come across the room and run your one fingertip - yes, that one, brushing your mouth - down and along the curve of my spine so my body is forced to arch into yours. Then fold it flat, press your palm between my shoulder blades and reach up, up, touch my jaw with your tongue. Trace it higher, run it along the secret corner of skin behind my ear, inhale in my hair. My hands will be gripping your forearms, your shoulders. Closer, come closer (it's difficult to get closer than this but I'll make us try).

 

_No, I'm not impossible to touch,_   
_I have never wanted you so much._   
_Come here. Come here._

 

Draw your mouth over my mouth so I can feel your exhalations like my own but don't touch, not quite yet. My lips will part as invitation - kiss me, kiss me, come across the room and kiss me - and you'll be breathing hot and heavy into my mouth, so, so tantalisingly close. This is the best bit, the hover before the fall where you know the gravity taking hold is inevitable but for a second, only for a second, you toy with the idea of survival, pretend to yourself that you ever had a choice in the first place.

And now you're (kissing me, holding me with your tongue and your lips and your teeth, how could I ever want anything more than I want you, I'll put down my violin, come closer) falling. One of us will make a noise and no one will know who it really was but all we'll be certain of is it's the noise the tendrils of singing arousal make as they curl low in the abdomen, turning us into animals that have forgotten any other language than touch and more and now. I want to eat you raw.

 

_Have I never laid down by your side?_   
_Baby, let's forget about this pride._   
_Come here. Come here._

 

I also want to tell you a story. The best ones are always fashioned out of cold metal and wood that gives you splinters. When I speak, you won't be able to look away.

So kiss me, kiss me like you're dedicated, like there's nothing more important. Run your tongue across my soft palate, press me up against the wallpaper with the water stain so my shoulder blades dig into the plaster, sew stars into my bones. Amateur photography, that's what I'll do; take pictures of your mouth and the exact colour of your irises, commit them to memory. Make sure your hands never stop roaming, pulling, drawing music out of every millimetre of my skin, touch so I can't keep up anymore.

And then, perhaps, when we're significantly lighter and struggling to breathe, we pull apart. Pant out breath in my mouth again, I never want this to end, I never want this to end. I haven't thought beyond the candescent perpetuity of the kiss. Maybe now you stretch out your hand, palm up, and lead me softly into my bedroom, or you drag my shoulders and spin me and mold me, arch against me trapped between the kitchen cabinets and my body, or you press me back onto the sofa, making me yours.

 

_Well, I'm in no hurry._   
_You don't have to run away this time._   
_I know that you're timid,_   
_but it's gonna be all right this time._

 

I blink and you're gone - to bed, probably - and my wrist aches from the weight of the forgotten instrument hanging from my grasp. I've been standing motionless, lost to you and your mouth - a mouth that I've never known - for two hours and seventeen minutes. I wonder how for long you watched my hands. I still want to eat you raw.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this and then added the lyrics after the first time I heard the song, realising that it accidentally fitted perfectly. It's called 'Come Here' by Kath Bloom, although I actually prefer [this](url) cover.


End file.
